It certainly wasn't a warm war
by Freckle-sama
Summary: Based off a 'Cold War' Historical RP I had going with an Alfred at one stage- Rated T for now just to be on the safe side.
1. Chapter 1

World war II was no longer a threat, much to the relief of all the townsfolk whom had witnessed the horror and utter devastation, be it town folk, country folk or the soldiers themselves.  
However all was not at peace as humans seemed to have an awful knack of getting on each other's nerves, leading to them eventually being at each other's throats with rusty blades and or other wonderful sharp implements of choice.

A new conflict had begun. One which would be remembered always between the two countries involved, at least. Neither of which would give up the bitter feeling they'd always have for each other despite what their governments peace policy would state in the near future.  
This conflict was baptised as 'The cold war'.

Two of the world's greatest super powers; the democratic, capitalist United states and the Communist Soviet Union of Russia, against each other.  
Each side's reasons to have a go at one another, one could say were rather childish perhaps.  
Both sought to prove the superiority of their technology in warheads as well as political and economic systems.  
It was to take a half Century before this 'trouble' was to die down.  
Both sides wished to avoid military confrontation, though sadly it wasn't the case that they could avoid it. Lives were to be lost, people were to be injured and scars were to remain in every man's mind.

Somewhere in the red square an alarm clock rung unceremoniously on the nightstand next to a platinum blonds bed.  
A brief utterance of mild expletives in Russian could be barely detected as a large hand crashed down on top of the poor little offending contraption, shutting it off effectively.  
Komdiv Ivan Braginski reluctantly sat up from his unfairly warm bed and glanced out the window at the first few flakes of snow which were beginning to paint the landscape white.  
To people who weren't used to such privileges they'd be jumping for joy at the beautiful sight however there were two very important things to note about the said male.  
One he hated snow, two he hated the cold.  
Needless to say he wasn't impressed with the 'winter wonderland', but it was beyond his power to wish for the climate to change.

Back to the present;  
His Soviet uniform lay neatly folded on the cushioned golden chair which was against the door for two reasons one of them being his sister liked to pop in unexpectedly on him while he was sleeping.  
He was to attend a military gathering today which was to be held in the Kremlin HQ. Given the current weather he assumed it would be acceptable to just stick with his ushanka today, he needn't wear the regular Green hat with red and gold hammer and sickle design.  
Following various conflicts between them and the US it had been decided that it was best for them to make their 'move' now. Hence the reason behind such an important meeting.  
Signing to himself he got out of bed, the first thing that bothered him was the fact that the floor was like ice despite it being carpeted.

Psh, he'd have to have a 'kind' word with the housekeepers later about ensuring that each room be kept at a cosy temperature instead of having it like an icebox.  
Glancing in the mirror above the fireplace he proceeded to fix his slightly fluffy blond hair properly so as it would look presentable in front of his Military superiors and peers.  
He gave his reflection a brief distant stare; his amethyst eyes showed neither interest or happiness, it was described once indirectly to him that his eyes were soulless. Maybe they were, he didn't care. That's the way they'd always been, or at least as far as he could remember.

He'd had a rather dark childhood, though that's not to be discussed right away.  
As a result he'd blacked out some of his old memories, as much as he'd like to recall certain events they'd only come to him in snippets.  
The division he was in charge of seemed to cower in fear from the giant of a man that was Ivan.

The grandfather clock chimed eight times in the hallway. He had a half an hour left to get to his meeting, that didn't faze him. It was a mere dash across the street.  
Having gone through the ritual of washing, dressing and grooming he found that he looked presentable enough to exit his abode.  
He'd stop by at the nearby 'Kofye' shop and pick something up for breakfast.  
Stepping outside his front door he was met with the current weather however he didn't feel anything as he was completely and utterly shielded from the partially nippy winds which seemed to try to sneak their way down people's backs.

Icicles had already started to form on some of the many lamp posts which also added to the wintry setting.  
He dodged a couple of children, on his way, that were caught up in an army themed snow ball fight.  
Smiling his usual child-like grin at the game they were playing, he shook his head. He'd have assumed the children would have grown weary of playing anything Army themed, though he couldn't necessarily blame them. He too enjoyed army games, especially when his opponents were beaten down before him. There was nothing he enjoyed more than to hear others beg for mercy or breathe their final agonised breaths. Of course one would be mistaken to assume he was a merciless psychopath-he was far from that, in this world the general motto was 'Kill or be Killed' it was as simple as that.

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{Authors note:  
Okies so this is Chapter one done and dusted. Review please and there shall be another Chapter created~  
This story's based off a RP I had going on with an Alfred months ago, sadly it's quite dead so I've decided to put it into a story-it was one of my favourite RP's that I'd done to date and it would've been a shame to let it die ne?  
Also yes. In case you're wondering I had to re-do this chapter slightly as I'd spotted several mistakes Dx

I do not own any of the Hetalia characters, the Anime or the manga-all rights go to Hidekaz Himaruya.  
I just own my imagination and such :3}


	2. Chapter 2

**{Okay so-I'd like to take the time to say thank you for the reviews~ It really means a lot.  
****I hope you also enjoy this chapter too ^^}**

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Alfred was tired. No, not tired. He was exhausted. He had been flown in late yesterday evening to attend an important military meeting. The hotel room he'd been assigned during his stay was nice enough...except for the fact that it was FREEZING.  
'Get some rest,' his superiors had advised him, 'Make sure you're alert for tomorrow morning.' This, of course, had proven impossible. Alfred had spent the night shivering miserably under a pile of blankets. No matter how tightly he curled into himself, he was unable to retain heat. His blood simply wasn't thick enough!

The American had resigned himself to watching the clock on the bedside table.  
One hour before it would ring, signalling it was time to get ready. Remaining in bed while being unable to sleep was pointless, but he feared the world outside his blankets would be even colder then the tundra inside.  
"Ugh I hate this country..." He grumbled to himself from within his blanket cocoon.  
Eventually, Alfred was forced to rise and dress. His hands shook as he buttoned his black suit jacket. Doing his tie was more difficult then it should have been. His fingers were stupid with cold. He had chosen BLUE...because it was the opposite of RED. Why? Red symbolised 'them'. The enemy. As well as it symbolising danger and or blood. Both of which no human really fancied.

Finished, he took a moment to stare at himself. He appeared professional and as he forced a smile, he even appeared to be friendly. The perception of others mattered to him. It mattered because he could use it to his advantage. He'd learned to front a pleasant, if not naive, demeanour in the hopes that his enemies would underestimate him. It worked quite frequently he found and so planned on keeping this 'tactic' up for as long as possible.

To spite the effort he'd placed in looking respectable, his various coats would temporarily ruin the illusion. A well-fitted ,black peacoat went on first. Then his favoured pilot's jacket, because of it's wonderfully warm, fur collar. Lastly he threw on a bulky, white parka. There was no way he would settle to go out in less frost bite and numb toes would have to hinder another poor soul but not he! No, he'd take on the climate as well as the 'Reds' and be the hero.  
After pulling on a pair of black leather gloves he was ready to venture into the snow...reluctantly.

He hurried across the unfamiliar streets of Russia, refusing to stop and marvel at the unique architecture surrounding headquarters. The sooner he was out of the weather, the happier he'd be. No time for coffee. No time for breakfast.  
"G-god, I hate this-s country so much..."

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Following the death of President Roosevelt it was heard that the American's new president who went by the name of Truman had decided to be fully resistant against Russia and the Soviet Union as a whole as it were.  
All those present at the Kremlin HQ meeting had expected this new yank to jump to such a foolish conclusion as to act on impulse rather than plan.  
Despite the fact that reliable sources had informed them of America's increased intelligence on the Atomic bomb manufacturing and other nuclear warheads they still stood above America being the home of 'nukes'.

Before the closure of the meeting all members were advised to keep an eye out on any suspicious personnel in the city. Should any one find anyone matching the various profiles which were dished out at the start of the meeting the army of rank k-5 and up were given permission to execute without hesitation on the spot regardless of the setting, time or who witnessed the horrific event or should they figure that the individual possessed necessary information for their central intelligence unit they were to bring the person back to the army base HQ where they would be dealt with as they saw fit.  
With the meeting brought to an abrupt end everyone started to file out of the room, they weren't to put their 'plan' to action until they were ordered to do so, until then they were free to a point to do as they pleased.

Before Ivan could leave the room however he noticed that one of the soldiers from his division, Vova, was still present, unmoving from their seat.  
Normally he didn't bother to converse with the others unless it was entirely appropriate, but he found it highly unusual that any one regardless of how dedicated they may be to the army and the cause that they'd stay this long behind.  
After a brief conversation with his comrade he found out that the other was in fact scared to actually fight on the battle field (should the situation arise), it would be his first time since the smaller male had joined the army after the world war had been terminated as he had been too young previously to take up arms.  
Ivan found himself in a slight predicament as he wasn't all too wonderful at giving confidence boosting speeches, his presence alone generally made everyone want to take to the hills or pop the nearest cyanide pill, however he somehow reassured the other that the war wouldn't be all that bad and that they were better organised than any American army.  
With that he left the other and went back outside only to be greeted with a growing blizzard.  
First he had to leave his bed, then he had to act almost as if he was Vovas' older brother figure and now he was going to become a walking snowman. Life really couldn't have been better for the Muscovite.

''Choryt...'' he grumbled under his breath in his native tongue, trudging silently along the frozen landscape which was occupied by very few at this hour. Most inhabitants would be taking shelter in shops and or restaurants and rightly so.  
As he was just about to turn the street corner something caught his eye, a new centre had opened dedicated to flower arrangements. On the quaint little shops window display were many sunflower wreaths.  
Sunflowers;  
Now one would rarely associate Ivan with being the flower loving type. Well he was, at least he had a soft spot for that particular strain of flower any way.  
Stopping outside the shop window he took a few moments to stare at the flowers which seemed to melt the ice away in his heart. Only when he looked at sunflowers could he actually crack a genuine smile which had no malice behind it.  
The moment was short lived, however as he heard loud obnoxious voices coming from across the road. Were those American accents?

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**{Dun...DUN DUN! And there you have it, chapter two complete~}**


	3. Chapter 3

**{It makes me so happy when I log on to find lovely reviews.  
Thank you~ Thank you so much. ;w;  
Now with that much said; here's chapter three!}**

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Indeed they were. Loud & obnoxious was the American forte.

Though one couldn't gather exactly what it was that was being discussed among the few trudging uneasily (though the unease was masked with their loud banter) through the snow.  
The rumours were true: Truman opposed the spread of communism and would soon be publicly expressing his intention to 'protect the free world.'  
In the mean time, America had made gathering information its top priority.  
When able to slip under the radar, the United States had a habit of dropping political pawns where they weren't wanted. Such men slipped through using political loop holes and negligent security enforcement.  
Today, three of the said 'pawns' were on their way from a private conference that had been meant to clarify opposing opinions on a more 'intimate' level. No success. Perspectives were still as chaotic as ever and the meeting had only served to worsen opinions on either side of the table.

Such was the topic of conversation being held between the foreigners as they moved down the opposite street towards their designated resting points. It could be noted, that their discussion was quite cautious in spite of being noisy. They did not mention anything of value.  
All three men were dressed heavily; more susceptible to the frigid weather then the natives. The strangest aspect of their presence was their presence itself. They had the audacity to walk freely through the streets of Russia without concern. It was as if they were trying to attract an attack.

It seemed they were systematically dropping one another off at separate locations. Anyone curious enough to fallow would notice they the three had exercised no caution in concealing their sleeping whereabouts. Their group dwindled to a solo member. The one whom had been wearing a white parka. He moved casually towards his own quarters, hands in his pockets. His steps were strangely slow to spite his shoulders shaking and his demeanour becoming openly miserably after the last of his friends had left his side. It was as though he was forcing his steps to pace themselves.

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Furrowing his brows ever so slightly as the noise approached and passed where he stood he observed the three departing from one another shouting goodbyes and what not to each other as they presumably settled down for the rest of the day.  
Ivan was partially fluent in English, though he had to take some time to translate what he wanted to say and his English tended to sound fairly broken. It was also a hindrance that Americans talked so quickly.  
Nevertheless it was his duty to observe the ridiculous enemy, so, ever so discretely the tall Russian made his way at a relaxed pace after the bespectacled American who seemed to be in his element in the Russian city.  
To Ivan's amusement the other seemed frozen despite the many layers of clothing he seemed to be wearing.

He allowed a considerable distance separate them, he was in no rush and the foot prints in the snow weren't going to disappear any time soon.  
Crossing near the pedestrian crossing just opposite where the grand and beautifully sculpted St Basils stood, he had to shield his face from the snow which was currently being pelted into his eyes from the wind which had conveniently changed direction and resulted in partially obscuring his line of vision.  
Other Muscovites who were out on the streets at this time had started to almost blend in with where the other male was going.  
It wasn't all that hard to make out the other from the crowd however, thankfully.  
He watched as the other turned a corner down by Gusevskoy Crystal, picking up his pace slightly, his hands in his pockets one of which contained a standard combat blade, he made it around the corner and squinted around.  
The other seemed to have disappeared into thin air.

Well wasn't that just dandy? He was almost definite the other was unaware of him following him, he hadn't been that obvious, or perhaps the other wasn't as stupid as he'd let on to be.  
The only other place he could have went to was down an alley to the right hand side. Without further hesitation he made his way down that said alley, at least both old walls on either side shielded any passers by from the bitter winds and snowflakes.  
Cautiously he made his way past the few rubbish bins in the alley, keeping an eye out in case the other was hiding somewhere.  
He listened out but heard nothing, no sounds of rushing or slow footsteps.  
Mentally he hummed to himself ''Come out come out wherever you are idiot capitalist~'' had he sang this out loud others who may be passing this way also would definitely question his sanity, so he kept the tune to himself.

To Ivan's credit, Alfred had been unable to pinpoint his stalker during the greater part of his stroll. This was somewhat miraculous considering how prepared the American had been to do just that. Ivan was extremely agile for his size; however...his tall stature would still prove to be his downfall.  
Unknown to the predator trailing behind him, Alfred had hidden a mirror in his pocket. Whenever he moved to wipe his nose, he concealed it in his palm and glanced in its reflection. It allowed him to see behind him without turning. A simple method, but effective nonetheless. His attention had been drawn to Ivan due to the Russian's enviable height.

The blizzard, passing pedestrians and the (preplanned) colour of Alfred's coat all aided in his escape from his stalker's sights. The land's beautiful architecture was lost on Alfred as he focused on the distance growing between himself and the target. The American slyly navigated his steps in a way that tilted the odds in his favour.

Passing by a groove in the alley way and still seeing nothing he was about to turn around when he heard the distinct tell tale sounds of a revolver right behind him.  
Smiling widely at the familiar sound, he remained with his back turned to the other as it was common procedure not to move so suddenly while there was an idiot carrying a gun behind your back. It was clearly loaded and he wasn't in the mood to have gashes so early in the day.  
He took in his surroundings silently for a moment, he needn't go for the knife in his pocket. That wouldn't necessarily suffice against a gun.  
To his left against the wall was an old pipe, frozen over from the ice. It wasn't out of his reach and was long enough and jagged enough to efficiently swipe at the other. So he kept that pipe in mind for later as he remained standing.

''Prevyet Amerikanskiye..'' he started in his rather childish voice, laced with a thick Russian accent (obviously).  
Now this was the fun part, he had to try and remember those common English phrases without having a language barrier come between them.

''Vy are planning on killing me, in my home town with the army barracks only a half block away, da? They'll hear you. You'd not be wise to try it. Besides you have not a valid reason to kill me or point a gun at me, da?''  
Hm That sounded relatively plausible.  
All the while he moved slightly, but not obviously, in the direction of the pipe.  
Once he had it in his grasp he cleared his throat and concealed the said item in his long thick coat.

"-Stop shifting around." The revolvers tip pressed more sternly into the others back. Alfred would have preferred his weapon to rest at the back of Ivan's skull, but he wasn't quite tall enough to position it that way comfortably.  
His blue eyes narrowed as the other murmured something in Russian. What a hideous language. It sounded like it's speaker was choking or about to cough.

"There are plenty of reasons I'd like to splatter your commie blood all over the snow, but you're right. That wouldn't benefit me much now, would it?" His voice was very low; Nearly a hiss.  
Alfred's shoulders filched as his 'prisoner's' upper body moved in an odd manner.  
"...Stop. Moving. Jus' because I don't want to, doesn't mean I won't."

The American had purposely avoided giving a helpful answer as to why he was holding Ivan at gunpoint. He figured the less his captive knew, the easier he'd be to handle.  
It had become evident rather quickly (due to losses) that if a Russian followed you, it was likely he had a license to kill. Men given the power to kill by their government are typically ones of high authority.  
And men of high authority are gifted with more political knowledge then men without.  
Alfred and his comrades had been placed in Moscow as decoys.  
Their orders had been to attract at least one of the Soviet Union's security agents (by any means necessary) then contact headquarters for instructions to smuggle their hostage into Turkey for extensive questioning. If Ivan was successfully captured, the events to follow would probably result in his torture and execution.

"Start emptying out your pockets. Throw your weapons behind you. Do it slowly."  
Alfred knew he would have to pat down the others body before being sure everything dangerous had been dispelled, but the less weapons being held by his prisoner before physical contact, the better. Any hesitation to follow instructions would result in a sharp pistol-whip between the taller man's shoulder blades. There was no time to waste - Alfred had to pull things together fast and get out of the open with his target.

Ivan who was clearly not the type to follow orders from those he mentally deemed worthless and especially not from foreigners, fought back the urge to respond with a sarcastic remark on the others previous statement.  
He figured if he was seen to 'comply' with the others 'orders' of emptying his pockets that all would go well.  
'Seem' being the key word.  
He paused for a moment saying nothing, just listening to the northerly wind as it whistled though one of the cracks in the wall next to him.  
His grip was firm on the metal pipe under his winter coat, slipping his free hand into his pockets he proceeded to empty out the following; some spare Rubles, an empty alcohol canister and some other useless things.  
He wasn't however going to drop anything of value to the other.

''Forgive me, but that's all I seem to have on my person...from that pocket'' he said a slight smirk playing on his features even though the other couldn't see it.

''I'll clear out my other pocket now. . .you might be more interested in its contents da?''  
Without hesitation he gently moved his left hand which was grasping the pipe in a motion that looked like he was reaching for his pocket. Instead he spun around, jagged pipe aimed directly at the others gun hand effectively causing the other to retract it out of instinct to save it from being broken by the sheer force of the metal pipe.  
The gun was dropped leaving the other to almost do a moon walk back, compliments of the snow, despite the new turn in events the Russian wasn't going to take the other lightly any more.

The man before him was quite small (by his standards seeing as how he was quite the giant), his winter hat had fallen off revealing the most untameable cow-lick known to man kind, it was partially massing, but Ivan wasn't quite in the mood to laugh. He was in quite the different mood.

''Now vy will listen to me, da? I, unlike vy will not hesitate to kill you, regardless of where I may have found you be it in my country, which you shouldn't be in, or yours. Vy will be so kind as to accompany me for a nice long walk in the snow and you won't be trying anything of the funny sort nyet?''

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**{*Gasp* I wonder what's going to happen now? *Kills you all with suspense* Bahahaha-Hope you liked this chapter everyone ! :) }**


	4. Chapter 4

"-!" Alfred was rendered speechless by the other's swift movements. He'd never seen anyone so big move so fast! As his revolver skimmed helplessly over the street's icy surface, the American struggled to keep his footing while retreating backwards. His parka hood had fallen during the attack, revealing his fluttering, sandy hair and giving a better glimpse of vibrant eyes.

His expression of shock was quickly replaced with one of spite. He wasn't going to accompany his foe anywhere. Obedience would only result in death. He had no rights in this country. It's icy people could treat him with nothing but cruelty. At this point, it would be crazier to cooperate then to fight to the death on the spot. 'Today's the day.' He thought bitterly, 'Im going to die. But I'm taking you with me.'

There were several feet between them; Enough so that he could lean to grasp a wood plank within arms reach without falling victim to an attack. He wasn't even going to pretend to listen to the others demands. It was a sorry substitute for a gun - specially against the others weapon. But it had range. He positioned the plank between himself and his giant captor. "Ha, hahaha...Go to hell."

Desperation was one of the best weapons in the human arsenal. Agent Jones had messed up by letting his hostage get the upper hand and now, he had to deal with the consequences of his negligence accordingly. He was ready. His right hand hinted at a dull ache as he tightened his grip on his new weapon. Had his fingers been damaged by Ivan's pipe? He couldn't tell. They felt frozen.

It would have been a lie to say that Alfred wasn't intimidated by his foe's size, but he did his best not to express anything but defiance as he was confidently approached.. As soon as his attacker came within range he swung upwards diagonally, trying for the Russian's thick jaw.

Raising a brow, which was hidden under his ushanka, at the others 'weapon' of choice he shook his head and stepped forward, metal pipe idly resting in his hand.  
''Molodoy chilyavek, it is not wise choice to fight me with .../that/. Do not insult me I w-''  
He was cut off by the other swiping the plank toward the side of his face. The pipe served as a good shield luckily as he blocked the plank with slight ease, though the side of the metal 'chinked' of the side of his chin causing a small cut to form there. It didn't cause much discomfort; he'd been through a lot worse in times gone by.  
Shoving the plank out of his way, to the side with the pipe he took another step forward toward the clearly fuming American.  
He didn't however knock the plank out of the boys grasp, the other was holding onto it as if it were some sort of life line.  
Moving some stray strands of his platinum hair out of his right amethyst coloured eye he glanced behind the other noticing that still nobody had heard any of the commotion, and it was probably just as well too. Innocent bystanders shouldn't have to witness such things.

''I told you before, you /will/ accompany me for a pleasant walk, da? If you don't... how shall we say...I'll bludgeon you here, right now. Which would you prefer? Slow death? Or prolonged survival?. ''  
He'd noted the way the other had flinched as his grip tightened on his plank of wood, perhaps he'd done some damaged to the others hand with the pipe? He hadn't exactly noticed, nor did he care. It would work out in his favour if the other was even partially injured.  
Keeping up his usual facade of smiling pleasantly toward his enemy he waited for the others response, reaction, anything. If the other tried to strike, he'd strike back. If the other complied, he needn't kill him yet. After all he had to find out whether the other was worth killing or not first.

'Prolonged survival'? Of what quality? Yes, a 'slow death' would be preferred if these were to be the circumstances of his demise. At least here he had some say in how he died. At least he could die fighting. He'd rather have the sky be the last thing he saw then the dim flicker of florescent lights. Besides, the sooner he perished - or killed his opponent, the less likely it would be that he put other informants or his country at jeopardy with his knowledge.

Alfred lunched. He handled his weapon like a baseball bat. A true yank through and through. His swings were sharp and swift. They were also fiercely erratic. Unlike Ivan's eerily calm method of violence, Alfred's was intensely energetic. Part of the American was still hopeful. Maybe he could still complete his mission - maybe if he injured His enemy badly enough, he could pull him off the street and call HQ. Maybe. Or maybe he could hold out long enough to be shot in the back of the head by a second Russian officer. At least then everything would end quickly that way.

Because his effort to hit high had been diverted so easily, he focused on aiming low: knees. His main objective was to reach the gun that was slowly being coated with fresh flakes of snow a short distance away. Any blow delivered would aid him in doing so - a strike would give him time to dart for the better weapon! For all their flaws, Americans had one redeeming habit: They were resilient. They had never been known to go quietly; they never surrendered.

Having given the other a fair option and waited, the swinging plank was answer enough that the other was stubborn enough not to cooperate.  
What an inconvenience, he wasn't going to get back on time for his dinner; his little sister would more than likely be threatening the maids with the cutlery in his absence.  
He had enough of this little mans antics and so, narrowly avoiding the others swatting techniques brought the metal pipe down hard on the others shoulder. Though to give credit to the American he too received an awful blow to the knee from the plank. Wincing at the sharp pain it caused he growled lowly (It was more than likely going to swollen in the morning, joy oh joy, but it was a small price to pay), retracting the pipe, this time aiming it at the others head while the other tended to his seemingly dislocated shoulder.

Once the enemy was rendered defenceless and unconscious at his feet the Russian proceeded to haul the other with ease over his shoulder like a sack of coal. He retrieved his belongings in the snow which he had earlier had to drop for the 'show' and also fished out the others gun from the small little snow pile, tossing it into a nearby bin, he wouldn't be needing that, that's for sure.  
As he plodded along the alley back out onto the main street he pondered on where was the best place to 'interview' his new prisoner.  
Brining him back to head quarters was the safest bet, he didn't fancy taking the vermin home and having it possibly escape and or be anywhere near his little sisters.  
So, before he knew it Ivan was walking back through the Kremlin HQ doors, he was immediately greeted by some of his subordinates who congratulated him timidly on his quick 'catch'.

/CRACK!/ Pain exploded throughout Alfred's body, pulsating from his right shoulder. The agony had been so immediate and so intense, that it stole it's victims voice clean away. A sniffled gasp was all that erupted from the American's throat as he crumbled.

He could feel himself falling, as if the event were happening in slow motion. The American reached forward with the uninjured half of his body to soften his fall. His left palm slammed to the frozen earth, giving him means to propel himself a few feet from his foe.

For a moment, it looked as though he planned to spring up and recover his footing, but he was nowhere near that agile. Especially while injured. It would be easy to pinpoint the exact moment when Alfred was no longer able to grasp his centre of gravity. He rolled violently across the snow and landed in a pained heap.

If nothing else, enduring the Ivan's strike had pushed him in the right direction. Alfred reached weakly for his firearm, finger curling around the trigger. God, but it was hard to move. He felt like a fish that had been removed from it's bowl and tossed belly down on the floor. If he could just turn on his back and fire...

Unfortunately, he wouldn't be quick enough. The enemy was upon him before he'd had a chance to get off a round. As he was struck in the temple, there was a horrible ringing noise. He knew he wasn't dying and instead of being relieved, he was consumed with despair. His eyes struggled desperately to focus as black crept from the world's edges to consume his vision.

Dreams nor nightmares visited Alfred during his unconsciousness. The only thing he was even remotely aware of the pattern of movement underneath him. He hung over his captor's shoulder like a corpse. His hair and the fur around the hood of his parka marked the only movement on his person as they rustled helplessly in the wind. The American's glasses had loosened significantly after their scuffle. They were crooked, cracked one corner and likely to fall as he was carried.

To be truthful the platinum blond was shocked at himself for not being as brutal as he'd been to others in the past, then again the fact that the other could possess information worthy of their central intelligence unit was probably why he hadn't delivered any fatal blow to the other. Probably.  
He'd refused the help from his subordinates, the man slung over his shoulder wasn't any dead weight to him he just allowed the others to prepare the isolation cell.  
Passing down through the many marbled hall ways with gold encrusted inscriptions and sculptures on the walls, accompanied by the red and gold soviet hammer and sickle design he finally reached the less decorative area which was reserved solely for retaining prisoners of war, be it for torture or other methods of interrogation.  
Since it was early days into the cold war, this was their first 'live catch' since the previous eight worthless excuses for 'spies'. They'd been dealt with, some of them silenced perhaps one or two were set free he couldn't recall who had been released or who hadn't. It didn't matter.  
The only disadvantage to this part of the monstrous building complex was the fact that it wasn't as insulated and cosy.  
Though it wasn't necessarily unbearable during the hours of daylight, it was only when nightfall crept in would the inmates feel the deathly chill of the Baltic temperatures.

On his way to the cell the American who had yet to be identified was still completely unconscious, only a few pained noises erupted from the other at random intervals but it didn't seem to faze or irritate the other one bit, it was to be expected after all. Having one's shoulder dislocated alongside a nearly split head wasn't exactly the most comfortable experience.  
However unlike the way (rumour had it) the American army treated their prisoners of war, the Russian army did provide for their prisoners medical attention and met their basic needs as human beings so long as they were deserving of it.  
Ivan on the other hand didn't deem the other as deserving of anything other than a swift kick where the 'sun don't shine', he'd been rather rude to him earlier. After all he had offered an extended life expectancy hadn't he?  
Arriving outside cell 'Vosyem' (Eight) he found the door to be already open and prepared as promised from his comrades.  
The room was a plain off grey coloured area in which only a basic bed was provided, a rough duvet was folded neatly at the base of the bed and a matching rough material pillow sat at the top of the bed near the headboard. The window was small and barred, the scene outside was nothing but a snowy wasteland with a view of some distant lights from the now darkening city.  
Finally he set the other down or rather dropped the other down onto the bed , he noticed the dangerous position the others glasses were in so decided to take them off the other and set them aside so no major damage would become of them.  
Getting a room from the hallway he brought it to the corner of the room after he'd locked himself in the cell. He'd wait for the other to wake, and then he'd interrogate.

* * *

**And there you have it, chapter 4's done~!  
****Sorry it took so long to get it published and such, I've been fairly busy and whatnot.  
****Hope you all enjoyed it ^^**


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